


Just Another Week in the Realm

by Darkwood_Princess



Category: Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)
Genre: Family, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing Body Heat, Snow, Villain of the Week, are not what they're chalked up to be, fur bikinis are dumb, magic hats, seriously, shields can do damage, to the owners, when unprepared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwood_Princess/pseuds/Darkwood_Princess
Summary: A catch all for DnD Drabbles...  featuring all the characters you love in new and creative situations. Latest Chapter: The children get trapped in a cave during a snow storm and realize that some of their party are not cold weather equipped.





	1. Split Lips, Magical Nonsense, and Creative Javelin Skills

                There is blood on his lips, fresh and flowing, as his shield is slammed up and back, the power of their latest enemy a complete and utter surprise. He does not think about what would have happened had he been a millimeter further and millisecond slower, does not let the fear that often sluices through him dam up his actions, as Presto scrambles backwards behind him, Diana catching the Magician before he too tumbles to the too cold flagstones of the latest nightmare castle. He does spare a moment to thank whatever gods exist that he does not have Lord Finbheara’s fashion sense, the bright orange of his tunic clashing with his fiery hair, and shouldn’t a red head know better? Sheesh, even Sheila avoided red before they all got thrown into this stupid place.

                A part of him points out that it doesn’t matter, does it, if Finbheara’s magic breaks through his shield, that his hair could be technicolor for all the good it would do him to point out his sartorial mishaps.

                The other part says, ‘ _Eh, I’m going to die anyways.’_

“Yo carrot top, anyone ever tell you that red heads shouldn’t wear orange? You look like the world’s dumbest tropical fruit! Who dressed you, the Bogbeasts?” His split lip tastes bitter against the strain of blocking the latest villain of the week’s magical blasts, and he wonders vaguely if he should be worried that Diana will dart out from behind him to take on the raving lunatic before them once Presto pulls something remotely helpful out of his recalcitrant hat.

                Behind him, Presto chokes mid-spell and Diana smothers a laugh. Good. Some good will come out of this situation if they can only distract ole Finny long enough for Bobby, Hank, and Sheila to grab the man’s magic mirror from his inner sanctum. Oh an Uni. He always somehow forgets the little unicorn, having long ago decided she had some sort of equine death wish. If he was a unicorn he would have taken one look at their disastrous squad and teleported as far away as possible.  

“Alaca-yelp, Give us something that can help!” He hears Diana groan softly behind him and knows that Presto has pulled something absolutely useless out of his hat. It’s almost as if the thing lives to spite the Magician. Much like the Realm around them.

                ( _A far darker corner of his mind suggests that the flaw lies not with the caster but with the object, that Presto himself is far more powerful than the hat will let him be. Hadn’t he worked Merlin’s Spell without it, worked magic strong enough to banish those terrible dragons? But the others trusted Dungeon Master implicitly, and to suggest that he was controlling them in any way never went well.)_

“Presto, that’s just a giant horseshoe!” Diana’s fond exasperation held the hint of humor it always did, that levelheadedness that rivaled Hanks, although Eric would never admit that he preferred Diana’s teasing over Hank’s goodnatured remarks.

                “Yeah, but the Fae are allergic to iron!” Presto sounded excited as Lord Finbheara continued to shout the usual threats of death and dismemberment that had become a sort of sordid soundtrack in their lives.

                “Foolish children! You will never be close enough to bind me! I will incinerate you!”

                “Yeah,” Eric lobbed back, sweat rolling down the back of his neck from the effort required to maintain the necessary force field, “You’ve done such a swell job so far. Feeling real incinerated!” There is some shuffling behind him and the soft sound of Diana’s javelin extending. Ah, here comes the terrifying part where he watches one of their small party running into danger.

                He’d never tell a soul that it gets harder to watch every time.

                “I guess it’s good that I’m a champ at horseshoes! Duck, Eric!” Dianna shouts as he drops to one knee, a dark blur slamming over his head and slamming into the shocked Lord. Oh that’s so much better than watching Diana duck into the path of literal fire. Finbheara goes down like a cheap set of cards, just in time for Hank, Bobby, and Sheila to dash into the room, slamming the magic mirror down onto the stunned villain.

                When he disappears into the mirror in a shower of what Eric assumes is the Realm’s idea of glitter, only for Dungeon Master to show up and both congratulate and mystify them, the Cavalier represses the sigh that threatens to burst forth. Another way home used to stop some ridiculous tyrant.

                Just another week in the realm.

                (The blood on his lip dries, but the damage was never truly external anyways.)


	2. Magic Do As You Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Presto learns some valuable lessons about himself. Namely that magic does what it wants, fears can be overcome, and that home is not always where you think it is. 
> 
> Or Venger is a jerk to people who wear glasses, because come on, you know he totally would be.

               He does not want to give Venger the joy of seeing his misery as the Arch Mage plucks his glasses off his face almost as an afterthought, the irony not lost on Presto as the world blurs around him to dark blobs. The darkness is broken up only by the vaguest shapes of his friends in what color he can glean in the semi twilight nature of the dungeon of their foe’s latest castle keep. Fortunately he cannot see what his screwed up face looks like, but Presto hopes that he looks a little stronger than a chained up kid squinting in the damp dimness.

               ( _Yeah right, fat chance of that.)_

               He knows his fear is silly, that in comparison to anything that could truly hurt them, losing his glasses is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of maliciousness, but it hurts him nonetheless, an aching pain in his chest, knowing that not only is he the most useless in terms of skillset, he’s now pretty much blind.

               ( _He conveniently forgets that he has the power to summon navy troop carriers and exploding toy tanks, that he once produced magic strong enough to hold Venger, that although his hat is erratic, he has true magic somewhere in his soul, confident in it or not.)_

Why their not-so-friendly neighborhood nightmare decided that he wanted to take Presto’s glasses this time is beyond him, but he assumes it was probably some misguided revenge for the Dragon’s Graveyard, that Shadow Demon or some other minion had learned of their greatest fears and his was just the easiest to act on.

               “What a crummy thing to do to a person!” Diana mutters next to him while Sheila stretches as far as she can to brush his arm with her fingers, reassurance that although everything is awful right now, it can and will get better with time. Despite their proximity he struggles with recognizing anything else but vague colors, working off of memory and wondering just how this situation will improve. Despite the desire to scream in frustration, he knows that pessimism gets you nowhere.

               Unfortunately no one ever told Eric that. Or if they did, the Cavalier chose to ignore them.

               “Great, we’re tied up and Presto’s blind. Just peachy. How’re we getting outta this one oh fearless leader?” His question was clearly thrown at Hank, Hank who was nothing but a gold and green blur in the dimness no matter how hard Presto squinted in an attempt to resolve the blurry image.

               ( _He wonders if his eye sight had been getting worse anyways, it’s not like they could have stopped at the local optometrist and gotten him a new prescription here in the realm. For it sure seems like he’s seeing worse than he did at home, although it could be the panic settling in like a dull ache in his lungs and the back of his head, screaming ‘useless, useless, useless’ with all the subtlety of Bobby’s club.)_

               “What we always do, we’ll think our way out of it and retrieve Presto’s glasses and our weapons. It’s not our first time being in one of Venger’s dungeons and probably won’t be the last, as much as we’d like to avoid it.”

               “And we’ll smash Venger’s castle in the process!” Presto didn’t have to see Bobby’s face to hear the grin in the boy’s words, punctuated by a shrill bleat from Uni. Of course Bobby wanted to smash everything around him. It was his default reaction to most situations and Presto couldn’t really fault him the response. After all it usually worked.

               “Okay, but what’s the _actual plan._ ” Eric sounded even more annoyed than usual at the suggestion that it would all be hunky dory without any actual particulars. Presto didn’t want to admit it, but he would really like to know too. For all his acerbic wit, Eric usually had a point and more often than anyone liked was right about just how any given situation was going to go down.

               “I’m thinking of one, give me a little time.” Hank’s tone betrayed his exhaustion only slightly, the day’s march combining with their predicament weighing heavily on the Ranger. Presto wondered, not for the first time, how the other boy was dealing with the responsibilities that had been dumped on him by their errant guide. Perfect temperament for it or not, leading was not for the faint of heart and Presto knew with sinking certainty, that he would never be leader material.

               _(But you are great in other ways, his mind whispers. Too many cooks spoil the pot. Leaders need followers, don’t they? Following is no great shame when the one leading is good and kind.)_

Eric’s gusty sigh greeted the sudden silence like the blessed distraction they all needed as the room got darker and chillier, if possible. “Alright, who wants to be on watch. As much as I hate to say it, we need to try sleeping. Standing up.” Presto could feel Diana’s chuckle vibrate through the air between them.

“Sleeping standing up isn’t the hard part, Eric. Sleeping while you snore like a freight train, now that’s hard!” Bobby’s giggle and Sheila’s snort rounded out the moment of stolen mirth, briefly lightening the frigid air with humor. Presto felt his chest relax a little, even though the anxiety still gripped him with sharp talons.

“Ha ha, Diana. I guess that means I’m first up. Wouldn’t want to keep you all up. Last thing I want is Bobby hitting me with his club on purpose, it’s terrible enough as an accident.” Eric’s teasing holds the comfort of familiarity, and Presto smiles as their youngest member takes the bait. He doesn’t have to see Bobby to know the face he’s making, blue eyes wide in annoyance, voice high in frustration with the older boy.

“That was one time Eric! One time! And you didn’t even get hurt.” There it is, the pitch he’d predicted splitting the air with the easy aggravation of childhood.  

“Listen kid, whether you mean it or not, getting hit by you hurts.” His tone is rueful, as if he truly doesn’t want to admit how strong Bobby is but feels like he has to give the kid his due. Presto hopes Bobby takes the peace offering as it’s meant, a compliment given from a place of experience.

_(His mind flashes back to all the bullies he’d faced growing up. What he wouldn’t have given for Bobby’s strength, his convictions and bravery. He hopes that Bobby never has to feel as helpless as he had, that no one ever looks at him and decides that his worth is less due to society’s arbitrary values.)_

               Sheila volunteers for the second watch, interrupting his thoughts, and they all settle down as best they can, the darkness wrapping them like a malignant blanket. The only light in the gloom is a thin beam that struggles to make it through a window, high up in the walls. Presto knows its location from before his glasses were taken, as now it’s just a patch of slightly brighter dimness.

               He knows that he will not be able to sleep. His mind is too cluttered, too distracted by the fear of losing one of his senses for him to calm down enough for Hypnos and Morpheus to work their own beautiful magic. There is nothing beautiful about their predicament, he knows, and he hopes fervently that Hank will pull them through. Hank has to, it’s what he does best.

               Hank does not have a plan when Venger returns. Presto tried to sleep, he really did, but the Arch-Mage strolls into their dungeon sometime after Sheila takes over the watch and calmly, all too calmly, announces that since Dungeon Master will not come for his precious students, he will have to make him.

               Lightening is terrifying when you can see perfectly fine but even more horrifying when it is nothing but a snap-flash-hiss in the darkness, when a friend cries out in pained agony, when all you can do is hang and listen and hope and _no no no this cannot be happening!_

               Hank’s screams blend in with Venger’s even declaration, that he’ll break them all to get Dungeon Master’s attention, and Presto feels the emotion that has been clawing in his chest build. What he originally thought was panic bursts outward in a technicolor wave that he knows the others _cannot see but magic is weird and he can see it, oh god that’s prettier than the aurora borealis he’d seen when he was ten and – focus Presto, focus! Get us out of here!_

Everything goes white and he focuses his thoughts on what he can best hold onto, safety, warmth, his friends happy and healthy. When he opens them, they are sitting in a moonlit plain, far from where they had been, their gear returned and Dungeon Master standing solemnly upon the only rock for miles. Venger is thankfully nowhere in sight.

               “Dungeon Master, you saved us!” Hank’s voice is hoarse from screaming but grateful, and as the others join in, Presto feels only the briefest pang of disappointment that they don’t realize that he was where the rescue came from for once. That he had saved the day.

               _(He wants to scream, I did it! Me! But the relief and belief in Hank’s voice, the joy in Bobby’s, the gratitude in Sheila’s, stops him from saying a thing. Having heroes kept you going, and who was he to spoil the illusion. Besides, now that he had his glasses back, everything was right with the world.)_

He does not tune in well to the obligatory end-of-adventure speech, feeling spent and tired, does not notice the glances Eric and Diana shoot his way. Dungeon Master never directly admits to the rescue, and the two have had their suspicions in the past about Presto’s abilities, but they hold their tongues just as he does, quietly flanking him just in case the Magician falls over in exhaustion.

               When a new clue to a new adventure in another new part of the Realm is given to them, with the assurances that they can rest easy in these plains for what’s left of the night, Presto curls up where he is and proceeds to catch all the sleep he wasn’t able to in that terrible dungeon. As the others bed down around him, one fleeting thought runs through his head before he completely passes out.

               _When I used the magic, I didn’t once think of home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies to anyone who can guess which Magician's catchphrase I've borrowed for this chapter's title. Also this chapter has been in the works for a year and I am so glad to finally post it.


	3. Fur Bikinis and Barbarian Shorts Don't Cover Snowstorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Young Ones are forced into a cave during the middle of a snow storm, they soon realize that some of their party are ill equipped for the night ahead. Featuring some of your favorite tropes: a jerk with a heart of gold, Presto's terrible hat, and sharing body heat for warmth!

“Magic hat with the powers of old, magic us up some clothes for the cold!” Presto’s thin voice echoed off the craggy walls of the cave that the Young Ones had secreted themselves in. The Magician tried to keep his volume down, after all they’d barely avoided an orc patrol when they’d slipped into the cave system, and across from him Hank smiled encouragingly. His bow provided a steady golden glow for the group, although it shed no heat, and their trek into the hills had never meant to be done during the onset of a freak snowstorm. The hat glowed fitfully, as if even more offended by its user than usual, and spat out clothes.

Sheila picked up one of the pairs of Bermuda shorts with a sigh, while Bobby giggled at the three or four orange mumu dresses, patterned with pink hibiscus. “At least they’re clothes this time.” Sheila smiled, able to keep a grin on her face even as the temperature seemed to dip even further. The light of Hank’s bow jumped gently, as if the Ranger were trying not to laugh himself, because if there was ever a moment where humor would be appreciated, it was trapped in a cave near an orc patrol during a terrible snowstorm.

“Maybe we can burn them?” Eric suggested, with none of his usual sarcasm only to follow it up with “because those are absolutely hideous. Geeze Presto, where’d the hat pull those from? A tacky Hawaii Tourist Shack?” He leaned against the cave wall, scarlet woolen cape pulled snuggly around him. Diana knew he hadn’t purposefully picked out his clothes, that he personally hated that cloak when the temperatures climbed, but she couldn’t help the twinge of envy that ran through her. What she wouldn’t give for a sweater and a pair of jeans!

“I didn’t know you were a fashion expert, Eric!” Diana shot back, hoping to keep the attention off of Presto and her growing misery. Seated next to her, Presto just groaned despairingly before Uni rested her head in his lap, bleating some sort of comforts to him.

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, “You tried your best, Presto. It’s not your fault that your hat thinks we’re at the beach!” He shivered slightly, in the same situation as Diana, and the young woman felt for him, wondering why Dungeon Master’s costumes were so ill suited to the realm they originated in. Reaching over, she snagged one of the dresses.

“I don’t think a fire is such a good idea guys. We’re in an enclosed space this deep in the cave system. Without anywhere for the smoke to go, we’ll only hurt ourselves.” She examined the cloth carefully, “However, I think we can turn these into blankets with a little bit of ingenuity.” Hank’s eyes lit up in thought and Presto turned a grateful smile in her direction. “Hey Hank, point the tip of your arrow over here!”

The stitches on the dresses popped fairly easily. They were definitely the three most misshapen blankets any of the children had ever seen, but they were better than nothing. Diana desperately wanted one of them, regardless of how thin they were, but catching Hank and Sheila’s eyes she nodded to Bobby whose shivering had intensified. Sheila’s eyes widened in discomfort, not wanting to leave her friend without any warmth, but Diana’s expression brooked no argument. The blankets went around Bobby with no objections from any of the group, save for the freezing Barbarian.

“What about Diana! She’s just as cold as I am. Let me give one to her!” Bobby tried to yank them off himself, only to be stopped by Eric of all people. The Cavalier held up his hands, trying to placate their youngest member, even as he pushed off from his position on the cave wall.

“Calm down, squirt, we’re not leaving her in the cold!” He pulled the cape from his shoulders, tossing it to her with only the slightest hint of discomfort as the chill hit him again. “Besides, red looks better on her than it does me anyways, fashion expert, remember?” Diana caught the garment in surprise, touched by Eric’s gesture. Of them all, he was the one quickest to complain and last to thank others when gratitude was necessary, but this, this was a generosity that rarely surfaced.

She had seen hints of it in the past, hints of a person far different than his outward demeanor would want you to believe. Deep down she knew that this would outwardly change nothing, that the next morning Eric would be back to sassing the Dungeon Master and griping about everything, but for tonight she could see the pride in Hank’s eyes at their prickly friend.

Eric shot her a look and mouthed ‘put it on’ as Bobby settled against his sister. She didn’t need telling twice! The fabric was softer than she’d imagined, nowhere near as soft as silk but definitely less scratchy than wool. Pulling it tighter, Diana felt herself relaxing as the warmth of the cloth seeped into her tired bones, the body heat of its owner lingering on.  It smelled slightly of leather and smoke, scents absorbed from Eric’s clothes and the countless campfires they had sat around during their stay in the realm.

“I don’t think there’s anything that can be done with the shorts,” Presto sighed, interrupting her thoughts, “ They wouldn’t be warm at all, even if we did rip them apart.” He shot an apologetic look at Diana, as if it was his fault that she had needed to borrow Eric’s cape. Diana merely bumped his shoulder, reassuring him that she was fine.

Hank replied to his comment by grabbing one of the shorts and folding it into an approximation of a pillow. “We’ve slept on worse, Presto,” he grinned, tossing it to an already sleepy Bobby, “Do you think you could get your hat to give us a few more ‘blankets’?”

Presto nodded with renewed enthusiasm, although his efforts ultimately proved futile. Sheila shoved the assorted items into the back of their small cave, figuring that none of them would really find a use for a traffic cone, a “wet floor” sign, and six Albert Einstein bobble heads. Now that Bobby was asleep, Uni curled around him, the older children figured they could talk frankly.

“That was a good move, getting us those dresses, Presto, “ Hank spoke softly, so as not to wake Bobby, “Don’t give us that look, buddy. Bobby will be warmer tonight because of it and at least we won’t have to sleep completely on the ground.”

“But I asked the hat for cold weather clothes!” Presto whispered back, “Not vacation clothes! Now the rest of us are going to be cold!” Diana pulled Eric’s cloak closer around her, not trying to emphasize his point, but still infinitely more comfortable in it. Eric’s pleased smile, flashed in a blink and you miss it moment and certainly not meant for her to see, hit her with almost as much warmth as the cape itself, as the Cavalier tried to hide the shiver that hit him. Unfortunately a metal breastplate resting on chain mail were better conductors than he wanted them to be, and underscored Presto’s declaration.

“What,” he announced a little too loudly, before the others shushed him. “It’s colder than a frog’s backside in here! I’m wearing metal, guys, metal! It saps heat!” He began to pull at the straps to the breastplate. “It looks like I’m gonna have to take it off whether I’m worried about a meeting with our ‘friends’ from earlier or not. It’s not like it’s helping me any!”

“Great, we’re doomed to freeze and it’s all my fault!” Presto’s quiet wail had the others drawing in closer, trying to comfort him and stay warmer themselves. Without his chainmail and breastplate and wedged between Presto and Diana, Eric shivered slightly less and definitely less noisily.

“Not if we share body heat, Presto.” Sheila, nodded to her brother and Uni, “I was thinking, what if we all just slept close together. We would stay warmer, right?” Any awkwardness that might have accompanied the thought was banished with the chill. “I’ll get on Bobby’s left. Hank and I can share my cape.”

For a moment Hank looked like he would protest, ever too ready to sacrifice his comfort as the leader for the others, but the looks Diana and Eric sent him quelled any comments as Sheila slid down next to her brother, Presto even perking up enough to make a shooing gesture with his hands. The Ranger took his place next to the Thief, sighing almost imperceptibly as the warmth of her cloak was redistributed over the two of them. Diana couldn’t hide her grin at the faint blush that dusted both her friends’ faces as the cuddled even closer to make the most of the cloak’s length.

“Alright Presto, I guess that means you and Diana should share my cape and -” Eric was interrupted by two identical looks of amusement. “What?”

“Do you think the three of us couldn’t fit under this, Eric?” Diana smiled, indicating the lengthy piece of fabric. “C’mon, let’s all stay warm.” Eric just rolled his eyes as Presto let out a tired chuckle.

“There is no way my one person cape is gonna cover the three of us!” Eric muttered back heatedly, his argument bringing a bit of color to his pale face. Diana was about to reply that they sure as heck would try when Presto interrupted her.

“It’s better than one of us freezing. Besides we’re all fairly small people and I’m wearing more than either one of you so if I stick out some, it won’t be so bad.” He shrugged, pulling them in the direction of the already lightly dozing Hank and Sheila.

“Besides, we’ll just squeeze in real tight. Any cape that can hold your ego Eric, can hold the three of us.” Diana shot back, as Eric held his hands up in surrender and Presto took the spot next to Hank, grasping the remaining bits of Sheila’s admittedly longer cloak. Diana took the middle with Eric on the end, the three of them laying back to back so as to conserve space.

Unfurling the cloak she managed to spread it over herself and Eric, with the bit left over, covering more of Presto who had somehow managed to get completely covered in both the lilac and scarlet.  The arrow Hank had laid on the cave floor dimmed as its owner fell into deeper slumber, and despite the situation, Diana felt at peace.  It wasn’t terribly comfortable, not with Presto’s bony shoulder caught snug against her chest and Eric’s breath tickling her ear, but at least it was warmer and that was all that mattered.

A part of her laughed at it all. Her parents would die if they knew she was sleeping sandwiched between two teenage boys in a freezing cave in the middle of nowhere, dressed in only a fur bikini. She herself would have scoffed at anyone who suggested such a situation as being a lunatic. But for now, as Diana drifted off to Presto’s soft snores and the feeling of Eric’s chest rising and falling at her back, she wouldn’t trade the moment for anything.

Well anything except a space heater. It was still pretty darn cold in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a big fan of winter weather and naturally started wondering how Bobby and Diana would deal with colder weather. I still have a few episodes of the show to finish, so if I missed something, please forgive my errors. :D 
> 
> (And yes, I'm a fan of Hank/Sheila and Eric/Diana. This isn't a romance series currently, but I can't say I may not write a chapter at some future date. I enjoy a good slowburn. XD )


End file.
